Hidden For a Reason
by jensonluvsu
Summary: When you hide something, you generally have a reason for doing so. You don't want it to become public knowledge. Clary ignores this logic and invades on Alec's privacy when she finds something he's tried to keep secret. T for light swearing.
1. Lost

**A/N: This is my failed attempt to write a chaptered story. I'm more of a one-shot person, but I'm trying! Focuses on Malec, with some ClaryxJace. It's basically what would happen if Clary found Alec's journal. It's gonna be fluffy. Just bear with me 'till we get there. **

**I'm not sure I'm loving this chapter, but it serves its purpose in that it sets the stage for the rest of the story. It's a bit lighter than I usually write, and I'm not sure if it works. **

**Oh! Italics are thoughts!**

**Sorry for the ridiculously long author's note… commence reading!**

_I've lived here for six weeks, and I still manage to get lost on my way to breakfast. There should be a rune for never getting lost; a Directions rune. Or something like that. Maybe an arrow, with… _Clary's musings were interrupted by the whisper of a door gliding against carpet. Barely a month of training had given her a completely different perspective; anything that appeared out of the ordinary, was. And she'd learned enough to know that routine was good, and a breach of it was bad.

_I am ninja. I am ninja. I am ninja fox. I am the fox. No one can catch the motherfucking fox.* _The mantra, however childish, calmed her enough to realize the noise was simply Alec leaving the room to her left.

"Alec?" He froze. "Where are we?"

The boy's face scrunched up in confusion. "Um… in front of the library. Why?" Clary just gave up. She'd never be able to distinguish between any of the rooms in the labyrinth of the old church.

"I'm so lost! Can you help me find the kitchen?"

"Suuuure…" Although he didn't sound particularly enthusiastic about leading a tour, Alec breezed past her, heading back in the direction she'd come from. After a series of shortcuts through rooms and a maze of hallways, the pair ended up outside the kitchen. They were completely alone. The Lightwood parents were in Idris, Isabelle was sleeping off a hangover from another Downworlder party the night before, and Jace was already in the training room.

The soft _plink_ of cereal on bowl is the only thing filling the void of uncomfortable silence between the not-quite-friends-not-quite-enemies.

In an attempt at conversation: "So, um, what's up Alec?"

"Not much."

"Hmmm…"

Clary tried again after another agonizing, awkward pause. "Got any plans for today?"

"I dunno. I might go over to Magnus's."

"Well," Clary could feel the blood rush to her cheeks in a ferocious blush. "That sounds like… fun." It was Alec's turn to flush.

"Um, yeah. It should be." The implications of his vagueness hit Clary like a ten-ton truck. When her eyes bugged out, they hit Alec as well. Turning an even deeper shade of red, he started to babble, "Oh! Angel, no! We're probably just gonna watch _Gilligan's Island _or something! We're not…! Oh Angel! No! Nonono!"

_It'll probably just be easier to stop talking, shove the Lucky Charms in, and get out. _Clary followed her own inner advice. Still trying to chomp down the last flavorless chunks of cereal, (Why did the last bite always seem to be the gross cereal and not the marshmallows?) she excused herself from the table, high tailing it out at the first possible moment.

Not remembering where exactly, but having heard that if you kept a hand on one side of a corn maze, you'd find your way out**, she figured the same logic applied to the Institute. Trailing her hand along the right wall, she followed it deep into the heart of the church.

Pushing open the door to her miniscule bedroom, Clary realized that she was once again mistaken; she was now standing in the library. _Could this really be where Alec and I were less than an hour ago? _Sticking her head back out the door, it was hard to believe that she'd ever be able to waltz around the Institute like Izzy, Alec and Jace did. The hallways were carbon copies of each other, and no rooms were marked.

Dejectedly, she flopped down onto the worn carpet. _OK Clary… you've got two options. 1) Keep following the wall, and hope you find your way back to your bedroom or 2) go sit in the library and kill some time until you can find another escort back to your room. _Her utter despondency at the situation and her aching feet played into her decision to stay where she was. _Isn't that what they tell lost children to do anyways?_

Picking herself up and brushing imaginary dust from her jeans, Clary sighed. As she re-entered the library, she made sure to leave the door open. A passing Shadowhunter was her only chance for salvation.

Idly, she skimmed the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Behind a massive mahogany desk- Hodge's old desk- a set of uniform books caught her eye. Clary pulled out a volume. The black leather of the cover felt smooth on her fingertips, almost like silk. There was no title printed on the outside. Even more curious now, she took a peek at the first page. In slanting, old-fashioned script, the letter M was inked in the top right corner. _M?_ Randomly opening the book to a page in the middle, Clary finally understood.

The page was headed Medusa. One full page was occupied with sketches of a woman with snakes for hair. The other page was simply writing; the same elegant cursive graced the page, giving a complete description and useful information. _An encyclopedia of demons!_

She flipped through the other pages, staring at the drawings of the monsters like only an artist could.

When the M's were done, she grabbed another from the set. D's. Dragons, Drevaks, Dasas, Dumahs. For the demons she was less familiar with, Clary read the paragraphs about them. She studied Yanluo***, Iblis, Botis, and Chimera. She would have kept going, but her fervor was interrupted.

This book wasn't quite like the others. It was bound in black leather, but it wasn't as smooth or as worn. The pages weren't edged in gold, like the other volumes. No, this wasn't from the same set. _Why would someone want to add another book into a demon encyclopedia?_

Glancing around- which she wasn't sure why she did in the first place. If someone had come in, she'd have heard them and asked for help. She was defiantly alone in the library.- Clary opened the book. As she read the first few lines, she couldn't help but gasp. _By the Angel!_

*** **_**Looking for Alaska **_**quote…. Anyone recognize it? Yeah, it doesn't really fit, but I've been trying to work in a John Green quote for ages. Nerdfighters for the win! **

**** It's actually true! It always works! **

***** Clockwork Angel allusion! **

**That was my attempt at a cliff hanger. I leant my copy of City of Bones to a friend, so I couldn't look up the library for reference. Sorry about that! And Alec might have been a bit OOC. If this doesn't make any sense, it's because I don't have a beta and I'm a bit sleep deprived. I haven't had any sleep since I woke up at 5 AM on Thursday morning. Read and Review anyways! I need feedback! The next chapter, which I'm working on as we speak, will be up as soon as possible! **


	2. Pancakes

**A/N: First off, thanks to: Jinxed Ink, ****nijigoneko****, absolutelywonderful, Bookworm24601, akkiofthefunk, and Patricia Sage! Your reviews are appreciated! Secondly, I just want to warn you: I cannot, under any circumstances, make anything bad happen to these amazing guys. In other words, this is gonna turn out to be teeth-rottingly sweet and fluffy! **

**Mmmkay… IMPORTANT! **_**Italics **_**are real life, while um… not italics (I guess… is there a word for not italics?)… is Alec's journal. **

**And yeah… his journal just starts here. Why? Use your imagination… maybe his last one just got full and he had to start a new one.**

**Sorry for another long note, but, enjoy! **

Saturday, 10/2/10

I had to get out as soon as I could. The day started out just fine; I woke up only a tiny bit stiff from lying on a bony pile of boyfriend

_Bony pile of boyfriend? Clary couldn't help but smile at Alec's word choice. He was obviously in love with the warlock, he'd proven that in the Accords Hall. It just seemed odd. Magnus was the one with the nicknames and public affection; Alec was always blushing when Magnus would say things like that. But it seemed sweet at the same time, almost like Alec was saving the best parts of their relationship for the two of them. _

For five hours yesterday night. I don't understand his infatuation with that mundie television show. We have watched every episode- and I do mean every episode- and they never make it off the island! But honestly, as pointless as that show is, I can't find it in myself to hate it. How could I hate anything that let me canoodle- I took his word!- with my warlock for an entire night? No. If something is giving me the opportunity to lie in his arms with my head on his chest, I don't think it could be a bad thing in any way.

So, after endless hours of dozing through the odd show and sleepy conversations, I was in relatively good shape. I was still smiling from the evening with my sparkly boyfriend until I realized with a fright, that I could smell smoke.

After living with Izzy as a cook for almost ten years, I've come to learn that smoke in the morning is generally a very bad thing. Very very bad. Knowing that I could, and probably would, regret it, I made my way through the Institute to the kitchen. The choking black smoke was getting thicker the closer I got to the room, and I swore I could hear Izzzy scream "By the Angel" at least three times.

I had to pull my shirt over my nose and mouth before I could open the door. For once, I was glad that Magnus had refused to say no to a new wardrobe for me. If I were dressed like I was when I first met him, I'd have died of smoke inhalation. The man had a knack for saving me; on the boat, during the war, and now, salvation by t-shirt.

The navy blue cotton did stop enough of the acrid air from seeping into my lungs so I could keep going in. Izzy was less than thrilled. Her exact words: "Alexander Lightwood! I burned the pancakes, not set the place on fire!"

Jace and I set to opening every window we could find to air out the old church. How Clary was still sleeping through the chaos, I don't know.

_I wasn't sleeping! Clary thought indignantly. I've just botched enough pancakes to know what they smell like when they burn! The only dangerous thing about the entire situation is that Isabelle was cooking! _

I never thought I'd say it, but I'd rather my sister spend all her free time with the Daylighter than in the kitchen, especially when she's in one of her "Maryse Moods," where she refuses to take no (or Taki's) for an answer.

Suddenly, an idea worthy of Jace in deviousness, I think of a way to avoid "Poison via Pancakes, round 2."

"Izzy, Mag just invited me over to the apartment for breakfast. Sorry!" I turn towards the door before she can tie me to the chair I had been in moments before. I feel sort of bad for using my boyfriend as an excuse, but, the illness following Izzy's cooking is not worth the regret. Besides, Magnus wouldn't be okay with me suffering needlessly.

By the time I got to the flat, the burning scent had left my clothes to be replaced by the rank air of Brooklyn. I let myself in as quietly as I could. Hell hath no fury like a warlock roused from beauty sleep. Once I was inside the door, I slipped off my boots, opting instead to 'skate' to the bedroom in my socks.

With as much care as a surgeon, I peeled back the buttery yellow comforter of Magnus's bed. I didn't dare breathe as I slipped beneath the blanket.

Unebelievable! I'd done the impossible- snuck into a High Warlock's bed.

Relishing in my victory, I snuggled in closer to my silk-boxer-clad boyfriend. The citrusy, slightly spicy scent of pure Magnus rolled off of his bare back, and I did all I could to get closer without risking my safety and waking him up.

My eyelids grew heavier, and as I was about to drift back to sleep, the unthinkable happened. My stomach growled. Thin golden limbs thrashed about, throwing the canary sheets in a pile on top of me.

"Mag! Mag! It's just me, Alec!" I tried soothing him. As he pulled the heap of silken blankets off of me, he started to laugh.

"When'd you get here?" It was my turn to chuckle.

"An hour ago. I was almost asleep, until my stomach woke us both up!"

He always looks so different awake and without makeup. His lilting eyes glitter without cosmetic aid, and I like it better when he doesn't wear lipstick. I'll find blue smudges on my forehead, neck, and _other places_

_Oh Angel, Alec! No details! No details! Clary decided to skip a few lines. _

And it's surprisingly hard to get the oily stuff out of my t-shirt collars. That was yet another awkward conversation with my mom. "Hey mom, do you happen to know the best way to get lipstick out of cotton?"

"Did your sister chase you out of the Institute again?" Magnus asked, pressing a gloss free kiss to the crown of my head, his hair tickling my cheekbones.

"Mmmhmmm…." I muttered. "Pancakes."

"Do you have something against pancakes in general, or just when Isabelle makes them?" I laughed, hugging his lean shoulders.

"Would you make coconut pancakes?" I pleaded. They were a million times better than anything Taki's could whip up. Already pulling on his silk kimono, my boyfriend just smiled at me. Once the robe was tied, albeit loosely, around his lithe frame, he tugged at my hands and pulled me into a tight embrace.

He whispered onto my mouth, "The things I'll do to keep you here, even be a mattress." Too astounded at the sweet declaration to laugh, I just leaned into his lips.

**A/N: Not so sure about Clary's thoughts interrupting. What do you guys think? Should I keep them? And that kiss is the slashiest I've ever done. I've read some pretty nasty stuff, but I was blushing just writing that. I have a sudden respect for smut writers!**

**The next chapter might be inspired by Bookworm24601's comment. If, that is, she lets me steal her idea! **

**And, in the future, don't expect updates this fast. I still haven't slept, but I'm on a Mountain Dew high right now. I'll try my best to post at least once a week, but it might not happen. Just a warning! **

**This isn't gonna have much of a plot either, but there will be more than little drabbles! Feedback (READ: COMMENTS) will help inspire me to write more. **


	3. Glamberts

**A/N: I swear, I'll keep this one short! Thanks to everyone who reviewed; you guys really make my day! **

**This fic is inspired by Bookworm24601's idea. It's officially dedicated to her! **

**Sorry, but I have no idea when this timeline puts the books. Just go with it; Adam Lambert was on AI during COG, and now he's on his Glam Nation tour. I'm so bad with time scale (is that a word?). Just go with my insanity! **

Thursday 10/7/10*

My pants are chafing, I've got glitter in my eyes, we've spent the entire night standing, and, by all means, I should be miserable. But I can't find it in my heart to be. The thing is, I'm with my boyfriend at an Adam Lambert concert that we've both been dying to see.

When we first started seeing each other officially, Adam was on American Idol. A good portion of our time at the flat was watching him sing. At the time, I wasn't a huge fan, but Magnus converted me. By the time his album came out, I'm not sure we could say who the bigger fan was.

Even to this day, it surprises me how similar my boyfriend and the singer look. And act. And dress. If it weren't for the fact that I'm with him every available second of the day, I might have thought Magnus was posing as Adam.

_Clary laughed; she was surprised at how funny Alec could be. He'd always been either angry and brooding or simply silent around her. Once he opened up, he was pretty cool. 'Now that he says that, I could totally see that happening! The two could be twins!'_

Magnus had given me the tickets for my birthday; it's clear now that I'm the bigger Glambert.

'_Glambert? Did Alexander Lightwood just make a pop-culture reference?' Thoroughly confused with the absurdity of the situation, Clary found herself Google-ing "glambert." The first result to come up stated that a Glambert was _"_The official term for a devoted fan of the glamorous sexiness that is Adam Lambert, Season 8 Runner Up for American Idol.**"Smirking to herself at the boy's double life, Clary kept reading. _

Needless to say, I fainted when I saw them. I'm not proud of that particular fact, but I was too busy trying to contemplate the idea of seeing Adam fucking Lambert live to worry about such trivial matters as blacking out.

When today finally rolled around (wow… that sounds weird. But guess what! It's ADAM LAMBERT time, so I'm just going to let it go!) I could barely contain myself. I woke up at 3:15- way earlier than even the most ambitious of Shadowhunters- and occupied myself counting the number of ceiling tiles. (There are 10 wide and 13 long. I checked. Twelve times.)

By the time the sun started to rise, I figured I'd been patient enough. I threw on the first clothes I grabbed- an old pair of jeans with a tear in the knee and a black t-shirt- and tip-toed out of the Institute.

I made the trek to the flat in record time. Seven minutes to cover a mile and a half. Not to brag or anything…

By the time I got to the house, Mags was up and making coffee. By the skip in his step and the mere fact he was awake at 5:23 AM, I'd say he was about as giddy as I was.

"Sweetness… you want some coffee? Iiiits mooochaaa!" I would have taken the chocolate coffee even without his "convincing voice."

"Please!" My sparkly boyfriend danced around the kitchen, spinning and twirling and managing not to spill a drop of the frothy excuse for coffee. We sipped at our mochas, had a quick breakfast (Magnus snapped up a croissant for himself and an egg sandwich for me from a café. I was really getting used to the convenience.)

_Jesus! Alec drinking a mocha? And being okay with stolen food? Angel! It's like he's a whole different person!_

The concert wasn't until seven (AT NIGHT!) , but that didn't stop either of us from bouncing off the walls. We tried- we really tried- to hold still. Mundie TV couldn't hold our interest, videos of the concert on the internet only heightened our anxiety, and even dancing around the flat to _If I Had You_ wasn't working.

"By the Angel! What can we dooo?" I was literally about to go crazy.

"Sweetness, we could… never mind." The fact that my self-assured, confident, who-gives-a-fuck-what-they-think boyfriend stopped midsentence was enough to catch my interest, despite the Adam-induced ADD. He looked at me, seeming to gather his courage, and took a deep breath. "Immagogetreadyyouwannahelpme?"

Usually, my answer would be "No way in Hell!" but, I today I was just having a complete personality switch. I just smiled. "Sure! Why not?" While Magnus showered up, I lay back on the bed and tried not to spaz out.

_Clary laughed. Even Alec noted that he wasn't the same. _

Humming "Pick U Up" under my breath, I waited for my boyfriend to leave the bathroom. When he did come out, he was wrapped in a silk kimono, hair tied up in a towel. He plopped himself down on the vanity seat and let the aqua towel fall to the floor.

Magnus stripped himself

_By the Angel Alec! Again with the details! _

Of his rings.

_Clary could only breathe a sigh of relief. She'd never be able to look at either Magnus or Alec if she got all the grisly details. _

Taking a bottle of gel (that one I could recognize), he ran his lathered fingers through his hair. On any other day, I'd be really sad. I love it when he wears his hair down- it's so much softer and sexier.

_Clary could see Alec blushing as he wrote. Even time with Magnus- who was about as crude as they got- couldn't get him comfortable with the word "sexy."_

But,

_Clary skipped the sentence. It was an Adam Lambert day… New Alec could get a bit redundant. _

A handful of a blue goop was the next item on the list. The effect was short of subtle- his entire head was royal blue. My boyfriend stared at his head for a moment, twisting and turning his head and examining his work in the mirror.

After a minute or so, he grabbed a tiny vial of a glittering, gell-like substance. Spreading it over his fingers, he massaged his scalp. He worked tiny circles around his head.

By the Angel! Those fingers! I could only imagine them doing the same thing through my hair. Somehow, the fact that I'd be coated in glitter didn't bother me. I couldn't focus on anything but the ghost sensation of Magnus's hands through my hair.

Without a second thought, I blurted, "Mags? Um… could you do that to me?"

* There actually was a Glam Nation show that night…. It was just in Tokyo.

** Thanks to for the definition!

**A/N: Okay, I had to split this up. The glamification will start next chapter, which is already half written. Sorry it took so long for the update… stupid Honors classes giving homework the first week back. **

**R&R! **


	4. Glamberts Glitterfication

**A/N: Mkkkay… this is the second half of "Glamberts." I just realized that I never did a disclaimer, so here we go. It'll all be in one spot, in case I forget again. **

**All the things that I do not own: Mortal Instruments, Alec or Magnus, Adam Lambert, For Your Entertainment, Pick U Up, Glam Nation tours, sparkly hair gel, leather pants, coconut pancakes, John Green books, Lucky Charms, Gilligan's Island, or anything else mentioned. **

**And I got the definition Clary quoted from urban dictionary . com**

My now-sparkly boyfriend looked at me like I had two heads. "Did you really just ask to be glittered?"

I could feel the blood rise to my face. "Umm… yeah?" I swear he fainted.

_Aw! Magnus has been itching to glitter Alec for ages! And now he finally gets to! _

His eyes lit up. "Come sit down right here!" He patted the voluminous cushion he'd just been occupying. "Just close your eyes and relax!" I did like he asked.

I could hear Mags humming behind me- this time it was Sure Fire Winners.

"Where _did_ all the pretty boys go?" I asked. The question had been grating on me for a while.

_What the hell is he talking about? Clary was thoroughly lost. Returning to her new best friend- Google- she figured out Alec was quoting the song Magnus was humming. _

"Hmm… I'd check the tour bus!" was his answer. I couldn't help but laugh.

_Clary started to crack up. Magnus (and his pervy jokes) made her laugh on a regular basis. _

From behind me, over the singing, I could just barely hear the soft 'click' of a cap being undone.

Suddenly, my boyfriend's fingers were knotted in my hair. Those magic fingers were just massaging my scalp and _**ANGEL **_it felt like nothing else before. I may have moaned a couple of times. The contrast between his hands searing with the heat from his magic and the icy gel would have been enough to drive anyone mad.

When he combed my hair with his fingers, I suddenly realized why Magnus was willing to wear his hair down for me. I played with it when his hair was spiked, and damn, this was a major

_Clary decided, in lieu of being traumatized by any more descriptions, to skip ahead. _

**A/N: I promise this will get finished soon! I just feel really bad that I've kept y'all waiting for so long. I'm working on NaNoWriMo and I'm taking five Honors courses so I've been swamped lately! You can expect the final part of this chapter within the next week. Sorry this bit is so short, but I figured you guys deserve something!**


	5. Glamberts Fierce Fabulous and Flawless

**A/N: I am soooo sorry that I didn't update sooner! I wanted this chapter to be in one part- but it's turned into three! The last part was unforgivably short. I know it. I'm really sorry. **

**This is the last chapter about this aspect of the story… As much as I love Adam Lambert, I think it's about time for him to fill another story with glitter and amazing-ness. **

**I've been getting reviews asking for Clary to be less prudish, and it will get that way. There are two reasons it hasn't been so much yet. **

**1) My editor- and sister- is about a nun on the scale of slashy goodness. And 2) Alec is more reserved. I don't think he'd be writing "I want my boyfriend's dick inside me."**

**There will be more details, from here on out! I'm leaving out Clary's thoughts for this chapter. If you guys miss them (and I'll know if you do or not because you'll put it in the review you'll write! Sorry, but I'm a total review whore.) I'll put them back in. This is just an experiment. **

**Jeez! That's a long author's note. Sorry! **

**So… yeah! Enjoy! **

Mmmm…. I could get used to this. My boyfriend's magic fingers were massaging my scalp, and I just didn't want them to stop. When he tugged on little sections of my hair, I could see why Magnus loved having my fingers in his hair. His unceasing, black-sparkle-painted fingers were putting me in an uncomfortable position.

"Nnnn" I can't believe that I moaned. I could feel the blood that _had_ been rushing… south… being redirected to my face.

From behind me, Magnus's lips found my ear. "Feels good, doesn't it?" The smirk I knew he was sporting was evident in his voice. My blush disappeared again, heading back towards my 'nether regions'.

I couldn't do anything but mumble my agreement- I didn't have enough blood in my head to form a coherent thought and my boyfriend held me by the hair, effectively taking away my ability to nod.

There were another few minutes of the excruciating treat, and then Magnus deemed my hair done. "It's FIERCE!*" he squealed with delight.

I couldn't help but laugh. We had to stop watching reruns of Project Runway. Magnus had taken up a slightly unhealthy obsession with one of the designers from Season 4- a fiery little guy with by far the most talent. Christian Siriano was the guy's name, and even I could tell that he'd win.

I peeked into the massive mirror mounted on the wall, and I just crack up. I got my boyfriend's joke- he'd done my hair exactly like Christian Siriano's. A section of my hair had been pulled over and gelled stiff so it sort of hung over my eye. The back was spiked up in a tiny halo, but the sides where hanging straight. I could see tiny flecks of glitter from the gel.

By no means would I wear it this way every day, but I sort of liked it for concerts. I might even wear it like this for one of Magnus's parties- he parades me around anyways, but I can tell he always thinks I'm underdressed and underglittered.

"If you don't like it, I can undo it," he whispered. It was almost like he was afraid I'd ask him to take it out.

"No! I really do like it!" I gave him a quick peck on the cheek for reassurance. "I'm not saying I'll go through this every day, but I will wear it."

"I'm glad you like it sweetness." It was his turn to kiss me. "Now, if you don't mind moving so I can glitter up. Unless you want that too!"

I jumped right off of the vanity poof. I might have let him do my hair, but there was no way Magnus was getting near my face.

The steely focus he had when he was applying makeup was slightly frightening. Magnus's hands were flying between vials of glitter and bottles of clear gloss. I realized how completely lost I was when he started applying white shimmer across his cheekbones. What the hell was that for? Confused, I crossed the room and flopped down on the bed. Chairman Meow appeared from nowhere and started batting at my face.

The kitten and I "fought" for the twenty minutes it took Magnus to go from his natural self to a walking pile of glitter and eyeliner. He'd donned gold feather lashes and grey glitter**. If you'd have asked me five minutes ago if that particular color combo "went" I would have said no. Mags pulled it off, though. I guess he knows that kind of thing; it's not really a contest who has the better fashion sense.

"Do you like this, 'cause if you don't I _was_ thinking about teal glitter…"

"You do realize that I'd kiss you right now if I wasn't afraid I'd mess up all your hard work, right?" Six months ago, I'd have been horrified with myself for saying something like that. Now, though, it just rolled off my tongue. It may have something to do with the twenty or so hours a day I spend with Magnus- I'm just more comfortable around him now.

I think I've seen my boyfriend blush about twice in our entire relationship, but he did when I said that. Trying to hide it with a chuckle and a hug, Magnus pranced to the other end of the room where his closet lay.

The first time I watched him pick out an outfit, I was astounded. The man had more clothes than entire countries, and I'm sure none of them were paid for. The closet was bigger than my entire room at the Institute. Clothes were thrown across the room, landing in pools of neon and fishnet. It took him almost an hour to get dressed. The entire ordeal baffled me. Like his loud-and-proud personality and complete lack of what my mother would call a mental filter, the Great Outfit Dilemma stopped bothering me after about a week. It was just Magnus being Magnus.

Chairman Meow and I resumed our battle while clothes rained down around us. We stopped several times to vote on the outfits Mags would model. I was starting to pick up some of his bad habits. I had a conversation- then an argument- with a cat.

All three of us finally reconciled over my personal favorite outfit: Magnus's rainbow leather pants and a white t-shirt. I expected a ton of jewelry, but he surprised me by not wearing any.

"Hooooooon…" Crap. The convincing voice never meant anything good for me. "You know I love you, and that I always think you're beautiful, but would you mind changing before we leave?"

Glancing in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors, I didn't see anything hideously wrong. The jeans were pre-Magnus, but they barely had any holes. The shirt Magnus had given me, so he couldn't have a problem with it. "I guess. What's wrong with what I've got on?"

He laughed for a moment, then abruptly stopped when he realized I genuinely had no clue. "Alec, the jeans are for someone twice your size, and look at how faded they are. Sweetness, they've got ichor stains on them. You really can't go out in public like that. And the shirt is fine for lounging or dates, but not for Adam Lambert."

Trusting his fashion instinct- because, really, I have no basis to doubt him- I trudged around the minefield of clothes towards him. With a snap of his fingers and a shower of royal blue sparks, he handed me a pile of black. Turning away, I stripped out of the clothes my boyfriend had an issue with.

The t-shirt I was supposed to wear I was okay with. Emblazoned with Adam's head, it seemed too small on me. The jeans I had a problem with. I have nothing against skinny jeans- they're a bit uncomfortable if Magnus makes me go "party tight," but I have no major qualms with them. These were well past the snug fit I would wear to one of his parties. They were impossible to get on; I literally couldn't pull them up over my calves. "Mags, we've got issues. The stuff is too small."

"It's called fit, darling."

"I get fit. It's just that I can't get the pants on." He full on giggled when I crab-shuffled around to face him.

"Lemme help you!" Another snap, and the jeans had appeared over my thighs, the black denim clinging in a way I'd never thought possible.

"I'm not sure having pants that can only be put on by magic is a good thing. What if I have to use the bathroom?" He giggled in place of an answer.

"You wanna go watch Gilligan's Island?" I groaned at his suggestion after a minute of playing with Chairman Meow. "Weee can just canoooooodle on the cooouuuch…" Maybe the convincing voice does bring good things after all. I conceded.

Suddenly, my mind was far away from the concert venue and solely on the zebra-skin couch in the living room. I spent a good portion of the day lying in the hollow of Magnus's body, not nearly as paralyzed by the shrink-wrap pants as I'd thought I'd be.

Once the light had shifted and we'd switched to watching Project Runway to feed Magnus's addiction, Magnus asked "Do you realize that we've killed most of the day? It's already almost two o'cock."

"O'clock." I corrected.

"I meant what I said."

**A/N: That was an epic fail in trying to be cute. IF this doesn't make sense, I'm writing this at 1:05 in the morning and I can't find it in myself to look back over this. I still feel guilty about the super short chapter, so I've been trying to write fast. If I have to edit this myself, it'll be revised seven different times and won't get posted until December. So here ya go. You just get the rough edit. **

**Tell me in the reviews if you like it better with or without Clary's commentary. **

*** I LOVE Christian Siriano with all my soul- at least the part that isn't busy loving Malec and Adam Lambert! Alec's hair is like: **

http:/ ./2007/11/pr4_bio_christian_siriano . jpg

**** Josh fills up the part of my soul not occupied by the three fabulous guys above. Petrilude has the best makeup tutorials on the internet! Here's the look: ** . com/?p=87** (just take out the spaces!)**


	6. Turkey

**A/N: I know I haven't been very diligent in my updates! I'm really sorry for that... life's just been crazy. I have no excuse. **

**So, to honor Thanksgiving I wrote this. It's gonna be really adorable and very fluffy. **

**Just accept the fact that Alec hasn't written in his journal for a while. Assume he was mindblown for like a month on the glitter and amazing super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot-ness of Magnus and Adam Lambert in the same room and couldn't formulate a proper sentence for almost a month! **

**I have to thank everyone who has reviewed so far! From last chapter: Yurie-chan, Patricia Sage, Fallen Avenging Angel, and MaybeThere'sHope. Reviews keep me writing, even at my own snail's pace! **

**Without further adieu, the next chapter! Enjoy! **

Thursday Nov. 25

I don't know what gave him the idea, but Magnus demanded I spend Thanksgiving with him. I was double willing- it's high time I spend the holidays with him (isn't that what they're for; lounging around with the people you love?). Izzy had also declared that she was going to be cooking, giving me another equally strong reason to find a way out of the house.

My boyfriend was ecstatic that I decided to eat at the flat. His enthusiasm was adorable. That was Monday. By yesterday, his incessant talk of meal planning was the slightest bit obnoxious.

When noontime rolled around, I grabbed my key and stele, shoved them in the pocket of my sweatshirt, and ran out into the frigid New York air. I opted to walk, figuring I could use the exercise if Magnus had snapped up half of what he'd planned. The walk to the flat was one of the fastest I'd ever taken; there was hardly any traffic, pedestrian or otherwise.

I took the stairs two at a time. It was a habit I'd adopted when I had to sneak out and time was precious. I couldn't seem to shake it.

After several minutes of fiddling with the key, cajoling it inside the lock, and a few choice words, I finally got the purple key to let me in. The scene I walked in on was hilariously ridiculous. Magnus was struggling to pull the massive turkey out of the oven. His jeans were coated in flour, two handprints on his but from where he'd tried to smack the powder off his hands. His hair was flapping in his eyes- down loose and long.

I tried to hold back my laugh.

It didn't work so well.

Shadowhunter stealth is clearly not my strongpoint.

Without looking over his shoulder, Magnus asked, "You think you could do it better, Alexander?" Still heaving on the turkey, he managed to flip his bangs and sneak in a snarky scoff.

"Naw. I just think my boyfriend could use a little help," I snuck up behind him- Great! Now the stealth rune works!- and pulled him back by his sparkle laden shirt. "I do have some extra training."

"Oh yes! I forgot that shadowhunters went through 'How to Take a Turkey Out of the Oven 101.'"

"Back up!" I laughed.

"Get out of the kitchen and go… watch TV or something! I have got this under control. I am able to make Thanksgiving dinner, no matter what you OR ANYONE ELSE says! Let me cook!"

"Pent-up aggression much?"

"Sorry… I can cook, and the last time I had someone to cook for was in the fifties. Instead of me cooking, though, I had to choke down dry turkey and green bean casserole that tasted like feet."

Deciding it was less difficult and more entertaining to watch Mags struggle than to make the point that pulling dinner out wasn't technically cooking, I hopped up onto the counter between food and dirty dishes.

We talked, Magnus sang _Sure Fire Winners_, and I was educated in the proper way to make stuffing. I was surprised to watch him cook; he seemed adept. Was it really just laziness that kept him from cooking all the time? From the smells wafting through the kitchen, he was more than adept at preparing food by hand.

"Why don't you just magic up food?" The icy-death-glare my boyfriend gave me screamed _shut-up-and-you'd-better-appreciate-the-effort-if- you-want-to-get-any_. "I-I-I mean, you normally magic some up. Why not today?" The sharp lines eased quickly from his tan face.

With a wink, he replied, "I save it for special things: holidays and my hair!" After an hour of joking conversation and minimal culinary action from me, we finished dinner.

"Iiiii haaave a suuuuurprrriiiiiiise foor yooooooooooooooouuu!" Oh Angel! Not the Convincing Voice! Magnus grabbed my wrist, pulling me down from the counter and into the living room. The flat had been transformed. The lights were dimmed, and in place of the turquoise couch was a single round table covered with a white tablecloth. Candles cast a flickering light over the place settings. Zooming in from the kitchen was all the food- the turkey, the casserole, the sweet potatoes, the mashed potatoes, the cranberry sauce, the two pies, and the rolls.

"It's like Fantasia on crack!" he boasted. Only Magnus would think to call his magic "Fantasia on crack." I don't think I ever even saw Fantasia*- Izzy did, I know for a fact. I can't remember ever going with her though.

"This is really sweet, Mags." A genuine smile broke out on his face. Not a smirk, or a saucy grin, or the funny face he'd make in the morning when I would get him to make me pancakes with a "good-morning" kiss.

"It's all for you, sweetness."

"I feel so cliché!"

"You wanna feel really cliché? What are you thankful for?**"

"I'm thankful that I don't have to spend this year hiding from the Clave and from my parents and from everyone in general. I'm thankful that I'm comfortable enough to kiss you in front of other people. I'm thankful for Clary barging in on my life and for Izzy dragging us all to that party, because without that I wouldn't have met you. And I'm thankful that I'm here right now."

Even now, after all the time I spend with Mags, I'm usually not that talkative. I don't give monologues. When I do talk, I avoid my emotions. It's awkward and uncomfortable for me.

I could feel the blood flooding my face in a burning rush. Staring down into my plate of turkey drowned in fat-free gravy (the one dish prepared with magic. Yet another innovation magic made possible.), I stammered, "Wh-what about you?"

"You. I'm thankful for you."

***Does anyone else find Alec the kind of person to watch Fantasia? I didn't think so! **

**** My family really does this. Cheesy and cliché- I know. **

**A/N: I literally wrote this in the twenty minutes between dinner and pie, so sorry for any mistakes. I think I went OOC, but I got the plot bunnies and had to sneak away to write this! Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving! **

**I'm thankful for reviews! Hint hint! **


	7. Anger

**A/N: I know, I have been lousy at updating lately. Life's been insane… I have no real excuse. There will be this chapter, and hopefully tomorrow, a Christmas chapter. Expect cheesiness and fluff for that. **

**IMPORTANT! This is where the journal oneshot-iness ends and we develop a tiny bit of a plot! From here on out, bold is journal and normal is real time. **

**Enjoy!**

**Nov. 28 **

**He's all I can ever think about anymore. If I look at Clary, all I see is his face when he was explaining what he did to her memories- smug and proud, but still sorry and full of understanding. **

The slam of a door roused Clary from her reading. She leapt out of her chair in an instant. "Hey! Anyone there?" She yelled, recognizing her opportunity for help.

Isabelle popped her head in through the open door to the library. "Hey?"

"Um, Izzy?" Clary didn't notice her adoption of Alec's nickname for the volatile Shadowhunter. Isabelle did. She was much more shrewd and perceptive than her brothers often gave her credit for. "I'm lost. Can you, um, help me get back to my room?"

Isabelle nodded, sending her black curls dancing around her face. "Just put your book back; Maryse is sort of a stickler about that kind of thing and they'll be stopping by in a few days." When she saw the cover of Clary's book, a quick flash of realization crossed her face and Isabelle asked, "What were you reading, just out of curiosity?" Her attempt at being subtle was pathetic.

"Nothing!" Clary spun on her heel, trying to lose the book in the mass of identical volumes.

"Give. It. Here." Isabelle's voice took on a ferocious bite, and Clary was reminded of the girl in battle. She could see Izzy pulling out her whip with that voice.

Clary turned back around to face the fuming Isabelle. Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, she handed over her contraband prize. Isabelle snapped it out of the other girl's hand, and after only a cursory glance at the pages to confirm her suspicions, looked ready to actually pull out the silvery-gold whip coiled around her wrist.

"Do you _realize _what this is?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "It's Alec's. His fucking journal! These are _his! Personal! Thoughts! _What _right_ do you fucking have to go _pawing_ through it? Hmm? Did you _ever _think that maybe it was hidden away for a fucking _reason? _Did you think that maybe Alec doesn't want anyone fucking _reading_ his _personal _thoughts? How would you _feel_ if your _shit _was being poured over by _Alec? _If he read your _sketchbook?"_

Clary didn't interject to tell Isabelle that one didn't read a sketchbook. No, Izzy was far to close in personality to Maryse for that. The two were downright fearsome when they were upset.

Isabelle took a steadying breath, then another. After a moment, she seemed to have regained her composure. "I'm sorry, it's just Alec has been through some shit. He doesn't need anybody reading his thoughts. Believe me, when he's ready to talk about stuff, he will."

In a small voice, the still-scared Clary said, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have read it."

"It's fine. Just think about stuff before you do it. If something is hidden, chances are that there's a reason it is. Leave other people's stuff alone." There was a slight pause, then a devilish grin crossed the middle Lightwood's face. "Unless 'other people' is Jace. Do you mind taking a quick _detour _on the way back to your room?"

**A/N: another EPIC FAIL at a cliff-hanger. Sorry this is so SUPER short, it's just really late and I've had a massive workload for three weeks. There is a Christmas present on the way for you guys, and it will be longer than this. Review please? **


	8. Destruction

**A/N: Hi again! Sorry for the sporadic updates. Life is insane! So… I didn't update this story like I wanted to for Christmas; instead I wrote a little one-shot. It's called Eggnog and Mistletoe, if you wanna check it out! **

**So, I'm going up into the mountains for New Years, and I'm coming back home the day before school starts back up. This might be my last update for a while. Sorry guys! **

**Enjoy!**

Izzy took off out of the library like a bullet out of a gun, and it was all Clary could do to follow her. Trailing behind by several feet, Clary almost lost Isabelle several times. The swirl of black hair or the slightest click of high heels were sometimes all the petite redhead had to guide her through the labyrinth of the Institute.

Stopping suddenly before a door identical to the fifty others they'd passed en route, Isabelle was too busy smiling like a maniac to notice the puffing Clary behind her. The middle Lightwood pushed open the door.

The first word to cross Clary's mind was white. Everything in Jace's bedroom was white: the walls, the carpet, the bed, the furniture. There were no posters or pictures interrupting the blank walls. It was just a cavern of white. Clary cringed, the artistic side of her desperate for some color.

"It's so _Spartan!._" Izzy broke the silence. Answering Clary's questioning glance, she continued, "Jace really hates having people in here. The last time I was in here, I think I was nine." Without another word, Izzy strutted across the room to the desk. She yanked open drawers, riffling through them and throwing their contents across the room.

Observing from the doorway, Clary couldn't help but laugh as Isabelle dismantled the desk, flipped over the mattress, and cleared out the closet. As the other girl teetered around the room in six-inch Jimmy Choo's and sent articles of clothing screaming across the room, Clary couldn't contain herself.

"Need help?" Isabelle was trying to move the bed from the wall. No matter how many strength runes she wore and no matter how much practice she had fighting in high heels, there was no possible way she was going to move the bed alone. Exasperated, Isabelle flipped her hair out of her eyes and glared at Clary. Without saying anything, she managed to convey "Hell-yes-I-need-help-what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you're-here-for?"

Clary picked her way over the discarded items towards the opposite end of the room. She took the side of the bed across from Izzy. "Okay, on the count of three. One… Two… Three…" Clary shoved, without any help from the raven-headed Shadowhunter. "Why am I the only one pushing?"

"Because you didn't say go!"

"What?" Clary was thoroughly confused.

"You go on 'go.' One, two, three, then you push on go." Isabelle huffed like she was explaining the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?"

"I said, you go on-"

"I got that! I'm just asking when this apparent law was enacted!"

"I'm no Mundie, but that's how we've always done things. Ask anybody!"

"Fine then. One. Two. Three. **GO!**"

Both girls pushed, trying to move the ten-ton bed. When both girls had gone red in the face without managing to move the bed an inch, they resigned to re-strategize.

"Mkay! So, I'm thinkin' we try another plan."

"Well, Captain Obvious," Clary muttered, "aren't you just brilliant?" The red-head earned a death glare from Isabelle.

After a deep breath and a quick hair readjustment, her anger seemed to subside. "Mkay! How about we both pull on one end, then go to the other, and kind of walk it away from the wall?" At Clary's answering nod, the two enacted the plan.

Remarkably easier than the previous attempt, the two managed to scoot the bed away. Nothing was held between the wall and the frame, and Isabelle's face fell. "Angel! How can he have absolutely nothing for us to use against him?"

"Maybe he's too used to living with you and your nosy tendencies?" Clary ventured. Another death glare was shot her way. Changing the subject, she asked, "Are we gonna pick this up?" That prospect was none too appealing; Isabelle had been thorough in her search of the meticulous room. Clothing was flung all over the room and draped over the desk chair. The drawers had been pulled out of the dresser and the desk, their contents strewn all about the floor. Isabelle smirked.

"Won't Jace be pissed off when he sees this?" Another smirk was all Clary received as an answer. A sinister light flashed in Izzy's eyes.

"He's gonna hate us after this!" Daintily skipping over the chaos that was the floor, Isabelle managed to cross the room without losing her balance. Clary followed, although without the Lightwood daughter's grace.

Isabelle had let herself into Jace's tiny bathroom. She'd climbed up onto the counter above the sink, and had procured a tube of lipstick from Angel-knows-where.

"What are you going to do?" Clary asked, finding herself watching from the doorway again. Izzy opted not to answer. She just smirked. She uncapped the lipstick and turned back towards the mirror. In giant, cursive letters, Izzy scribbled "Love Clary and Iz" on the reflective surface. The crimson script was then encircled… sort of… in a heart.

Laughing, Izzy hopped down. She turned to see her accomplice in a fit of giggles. "Let's go!" She said, leading Clary out of Jace's room.

xxxH4ARxxx

Alec could never understand why exactly girls would travel in pairs, or why the seemed to be in a constant state of giggles when they did. The two Fey he and Magnus had encountered down in Brooklyn had been laughing hysterically for no reason.

Still trying to reason it out, Alec found another prime example. His sister and Clary burst out of Jace's room, doubled over in peals of laughter. Clary's face had turned as fiery as her hair, presumably from lack of oxygen. She was gasping, and Izzy was trying to regain her composure.

Sighing, he approached the two. "Do I _want_ to know?"

**A/N: I didn't really enjoy that chappy, but I've had massive writer's block. This chapter just didn't want to be written. Mostly, I couldn't see Jace as the kind of person to keep a diary, so he didn't and this happened. **

**I'm looking at my desk, and surrounding my computer are seventeen cans of Mountain Dew. Please excuse any insanity, because it's 1:40 AM and I'm so hopped up on caffeine that my hands are shaking. **

**I don't know where to go from here, so please leave me some ideas. Concrit is also appreciated. **

**Love you all, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! This will probably (99.99% sure) be my last post of 2010!**


End file.
